Page 36 of Tipping Point
“So you can appreciate how closely we guard our secrets. They’re worth literally hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“We signed all the NDAs beforehand.” I tuck an escaped curl back towards the bun and twirl it twice around it to keep it out of my face.
“Still. Video footage of our strategy? I find it hard to believe that anyone would resist the temptation of not selling it to the other teams.”
“That’s why we’re such a small crew. The fewer, the more control WebFlix Max has. Dixon insisted.”
“Gabriel Dixon?” Felix sets down his glass.
I nod. “This is his project. I’m just heading it while he resolves some personal challenges.”
“Met him at the initial meetings a couple of years back.”
It takes notoriously long to get a production like this off the ground and filming. Dixon has been at it for the last three years before filming even started.
“He seemed like a ball buster.” Felix laughs his booming laugh.
“He’s fair.” It’s the highest praise I can think of.
When Felix gets up again to pour himself another drink, I take in the wall of photos. When I get up, he turns and watches me curiously as I make my way towards a highly detailed photograph, blown up big, taking up the biggest space on the wall.
“Fifteen years ago, this year.” He makes his way over and stands beside me.
The photo is black and white and it’s of Finn. He’s halfway out of the race car, helmet off and held high over his head, face beaming with a huge smile, his hair wet and plastered to his head. He’s being stormed by crew and spectators, and the photographer captured the moment of jubilation perfectly. Incredulous joy.
“This was before his crash in Texas.”
I’m lost in thought. “Is that where he lost his love for racing?”
It takes me a moment to realize how quiet Felix had gotten. When I turn to him, he has curious, guarded eyes.
“You noticed.” It’s not a question.
I nod. “It took me a while.”
Felix makes his way back to his desk and sits down. Leans back in his chair.
“Off the record?” he asks.
I nod. “What happened?”
Felix takes a moment to think it over before he speaks.
“The brakes failed. He was on track at Austin, and he was P two. It was a podium finish, but he wasn’t happy with that. He wanted first place. He was always risky. But never stupid. He embodied calculated risk. I can’t explain to you how valuable that is in a driver. As a principal, you know he will do everything in his power to win, while always respecting the car, the track, the crew. I trusted him implicitly.”
I turn from him and take in the photograph again, looking at it differently.
“His car practically flew off the track. He tried to regain control and avoid colliding with the barriers, trying to protect the car. But he spun out, careened through the link fence, straight into the spectators.”
I turn back to him with a small gasp.
“The car was on fire, and he got out fast like they’re trained to do, but a woman was trapped under the car. He was wearing the fire suit, and he was the best equipped to try to save her. That’s what he said afterwards. Calculated risk.”
When he stands up for another drink, I nod, and he pours me a small measure. The brandy is all fire and when it goes down, it leaves a rich, smoky flavour.
Felix’s eyes have grown soft.
“She lived,” he says bitterly. “But she’s not…she will always need care. She had brought her young kids to see the race, an early birthday gift for the boy, the youngest. They witnessed the whole thing. She was a single mother. Finn couldn’t accept it.”